Birthdays for the Dead (40 page)

Chapter 48

Alice sprinted off down the corridor while I lumbered along – falling further and further behind, forehead peppery with sweat. Clenching my teeth every time my right foot hit the cracked linoleum. The thunk, thunk, thunk, of the cane’s rubber tip was like an icepick in my lungs.

What was the point of a nerve block if the bloody thing wore off?

Thunk, thunk, thunk.

A trail of scarlet dots speckled the floor. Fresh blood, red and glistening in the fluorescent lighting. Frank McKenzie might have got away from Alice in the park, but it looked as if she’d done some damage first. The trail led through a set of double doors and into another two-tone institution-green corridor.

No sign of Alice.

A pair of nurses were helping an old lady up from the floor, glancing back over their shoulders. ‘For God’s sake, someone should call that girl’s parents.’

‘Come on, Mrs Pearce, let’s get you back into bed.’

I clumped past, breathing in time with the cane.

My phone blared. I dragged it out, cutting the thing off mid-ring.

‘
Ash?
’ It was Alice. ‘
Where are you?
’

‘I’m … I’m going as fast … as I can…’ Thunk, thunk, thunk.

‘
He’s gone downstairs to the basement.
’

‘Don’t go after… Hello? Alice? Hello?’

She’d hung up.

Why did no one ever bloody listen?

Through another pair of doors. My phone went again. I jabbed the button. ‘I told you not to follow him! Wait for—’

‘
Guv, where are you?
’ Rhona. ‘
We got a call from the SEB – they’ve got Megan Taylor, she’s alive. We can—
’

‘Get a firearms team down to Castle Hill Infirmary. Full lockdown. No one in or out unless I say so.’

‘
But—
’

‘The Birthday Boy is Frank McKenzie: tell Dickie. And get that bloody firearms team down here now!’ With any luck it’d be too late to stop me beating the fucker to death. I stuck the phone back in my pocket and lurched through one more set of doors.

The corridor opened out onto a hallway. Signs hung from the ceiling: ‘R
ADIOLOGY
’, ‘O
NCOLOGY
O
UT
P
ATIENTS
’, ‘N
UCLEAR
M
EDICINE
’, pointing in three separate directions. On the right was a hospital lift, flanked by stairs – one lot going up to ‘C
ARDIOLOGY
’ the other down to the basement.

The trail of blood snaked off into the depths, shiny red spots on the grey concrete steps.

Screw that. I limped over and pressed the button, my back wet with sweat.
Ding.
The lift doors slid open.

Going down.

The air reeked of mildew, mingling with a metallic tang. Not the hot coppery smell of blood, something older. Industrial.

I stopped for a moment – rested my head against the cool concrete wall.

Deep breaths. Ignore the pain. Ignore the pain. Didn’t hurt… Didn’t hurt at all…

Load of shite, it
burned
.

The wall was rough against my skin. No sound of footsteps, or shouting, or a struggle, just the buzz and hum of unseen machinery somewhere in the depths.

Where the hell was she…?

A light up ahead crackled, flickered, then died – altering the patchwork of light and dark.

I pulled out my torch and clicked it on. Flicked the beam across the floor until it picked up the trail of glittering red droplets. They crisscrossed the black line painted on the concrete, leading off towards the mortuary.

Told Alice not to follow the bastard down here.

Move.

I hobbled on, leaning heavily on the cane, sweat running down my face. Every step was like someone hammering a burning nail into the sole of my foot.

Sodding tunnels were a maze.

Deeper into the gloom.

Another T-junction. I paused, panted, wiped a sleeve across my face. Blinked.

Left or right? The line to the mortuary stretched off to the right, the other direction led away down a corridor more dark than light. No more blood.

Bastard…

I dug out a couple of Tramadol and forced them down.

Where the buggering hell was Alice? Why did everyone—

A scuffing noise from somewhere down the left-hand corridor. I brought the torch up. And there she was – Alice, in her black and red stripy T-shirt and long-sleeved black top, a length of metal pipe clutched in her hands.

I limped towards her, keeping my voice low. ‘Alice?’

She spun around, eyes wide. Then a pause. Then a smile, twisted out of shape by the swollen cheek and black eye. ‘Sorry…’

She shifted her grip on the pipe and nodded at a door a couple of feet away: ‘A
UTHORISED
P
ERSONNEL
O
NLY
’.

‘I told you not to go after him!’

‘Why do you think I’m standing out here, when he’s in there? I’m delightfully quirky, not stupid.’ Frown. She reached up and touched my cheek. ‘You’re absolutely sodden.’

‘How long’s he been in there?’

‘Three, maybe four minutes?’

I wiped my hand across my face – slick with sweat. ‘Right.’ The gun seemed to weigh a ton as I dragged it out. ‘You go back down the corridor and you wait in the mortuary, understand? Backup’s on its way.’

Alice nodded. ‘Ash, don’t…’ She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek. ‘Be safe.’ Then turned and crept back to the junction, then on to the mortuary. She paused on the threshold, peered back at me, then disappeared inside.

I shifted my grip on the gun. Limped over to the ‘
Authorised Personnel Only
’ door and tried the handle. It wasn’t locked.

It swung open on a dark room – the only light a faint red glow coming from overhead. Like emergency lighting.

A row of metal shelving units blocked the rest of the room from view – stacked with boxes of rubber gloves, big tubs of bleach, rolls of bin bags, and bottles of disinfectant. Hot in here, the sharp stink of ammonia overlaying something foul and earthy. Like peanut butter and raw bacon.

I raised the torch and ran the beam across the shelves. ‘I know you’re in here, McKenzie. It’s over.’

Scuffing noises. Something small: scrabbling.

I kept my back to the wall and limped down to where the units stopped. ‘Shite…’

One wall was covered in metal cages – stacked floor to ceiling. Hundreds of red eyes shone in the torchlight. Rats. A couple of the little bastards hissed at me.

I swung the torch around, and there was Frank McKenzie: back pressed up against another set of shelves, trembling. His nose would never be straight again. Blood made a Rorschach inkblot on his shirt.

I brought the gun up. ‘Where’s Katie?’

He flinched back, staring at his feet, hands spidering along the shelves. ‘I don’t—’

‘WHERE’S MY FUCKING DAUGHTER?’

‘It wasn’t me, she made me do it, they—’

‘Where is she?’ I hobbled closer. The rats turned to stare at me. Scaly pink tails writhing.

‘I…’ He shrugged one shoulder. ‘They took her away. They dug her up and took her away.’

They dug her up? Something solid wedged in my throat, cutting off the air… Rebecca: they’d dug
Rebecca
up with all the others.

‘Not Rebecca: Katie. Where’s Katie? She wasn’t in your torture porn dungeon. WHERE IS SHE?’

He looked up at me, frowning. ‘Katie? We didn’t… Who’s Katie?’

‘Katie Henderson. Katie Nicol. My bloody daughter!’ I hauled my wallet out, held it up so he could see her photo. ‘Katie!’

‘I don’t know, I’ve never seen her before, it—’

I jammed the gun against his forehead.

McKenzie squealed, hands flapping against the shelves, sending cartons and tins clattering to the concrete floor. ‘I didn’t do anything, I just took the photographs, it was all her! I didn’t want to! It—’

‘WHERE IS SHE?’

‘I don’t know, I’ve never even—’

The gun barked like a pit bull.

McKenzie screamed, clutched both hands over the hole where a big chunk of his left ear used to be as the boom echoed back and forth from the breeze-block walls.

He sank down onto his haunches, blood oozing out through his fingers.

‘Where is she?’

‘I DON’T KNOW!’

I backhanded him with the gun, and he clattered back against the shelves.

‘Aaaaaagh…’

‘Katie Henderson: your fourteenth bloody victim.’

He blinked up at me, eyes wet with tears. ‘Fourteen?’

There was a sink in the corner, by a mop and wheelie-bucket. The bucket was full of greasy grey water. Wasn’t exactly a ’96 Pinot Noir, but it’d do.

‘Last chance.’

‘I don’t understand…’ He stared at me, eyebrows pinched together, mouth turned down, blood trickling down his cheek. ‘Why would we need
fourteen
?’

Have to find something to tie the bastard down to. The door was too heavy – couldn’t kick it off the hinges anyway. The shelves would do though. I grabbed the nearest set and hauled them away from the wall – toilet roll and bottles of cleaning fluid bounced off the floor as it smashed into the concrete.

McKenzie screamed, both arms wrapped around his head. ‘I didn’t touch her!’

‘Ever been waterboarded? Because you’re…’

A noise behind me.

God’s sake: why did no one
ever
listen? ‘Alice, I told you to wait in the mortuary.’ I turned. Froze.

It wasn’t Alice. It was the Rat Catcher. She was huge, shoulders hunched, staring down at me. Her eyes shone in the torchlight, like the rats’ in their cages… She bared her teeth. ‘Leave my little brother ALONE!’

The fist came from nowhere – sparks exploded deep inside my head, making everything fuzzy as the floor rolled beneath my feet. Then another one.

I lurched back, stumbled over something, went crashing against the wall of cages. Hissing, rattling, snapping yellow teeth.

The next punch drove all the air from my lungs, and wrapped barbed wire around my chest.

Fight back. Fight back, you useless bastard.

I swung for her face. Missed. Got another punch in the stomach for my troubles.

Knees wouldn’t work any more.

She grabbed me by the lapels, pulled me forwards, then slammed me into the cages again.

Screeching rats. The stink of piss and droppings.

Gouge her eyes out. Bite her. Kick her in the crotch. DO SOMETHING!

She curled her fist back and grinned at me. ‘You’ve been naughty.’

Bang.

I blinked. How…? I was on the floor, lying on my back, looking up at a network of wires and pipes. Ringing in my ears, black dots swirling in front of my eyes. ‘Unnngh…’

Voices in the red-tinted gloom.

McKenzie: ‘Who’s Katie Henderson?’

Rat Catcher: ‘Dunno.’

‘He thinks we took fourteen girls, I mean, why would we take fourteen girls? It doesn’t make any sense.’

‘I’m tired.’

It took three goes to haul myself up onto my elbows. I blinked again, tried to shake the black dots away. My head throbbed.

The pair of them were sitting on the concrete floor, the wall behind them full of glowing eyes.

McKenzie brushed the hair back from his sister’s face. ‘It’s OK. Soon be time to go home.’

‘All finished.’

He smiled. ‘All finished.’

‘Your ear looks sore.’

It looked like a chunk of chewed bacon.

I grabbed the tipped-over shelving unit and used it to pull myself up, until I was sitting with my back against the sink in the corner. Panting, sweating, every move fanning the flames. My foot throbbed and burned, my back crackled, my head filled with boiling smoke.

The Rat Catcher pointed at me. ‘He knows.’

McKenzie nodded. ‘Everyone knows, now.’

‘We should kill him. Kill him and put him in the incinerator.’

‘Fuck… Fuck the pair of you.’ I reached into my jacket… But the gun wasn’t there.

McKenzie held it up. Shook his head. ‘No.’

‘We kill him and we put him in the incinerator.’ She stood, towering over both of us.

‘Lisa, we can’t.
I
can’t.’ He stared at the gun in his hands. ‘We need to go away, before more people come.’

‘We can’t go away till we see to Andrea.’

‘They’ve got her. They came to the house. They’ve taken her away.’ He looked at me. ‘Haven’t you?’

I wiped the sweat out of my eyes. ‘It’s over.’

‘It’s not over.’ The Rat Catcher curled her dirty hands into fists. ‘We get her
back
. We get her back and we make the bitch pay for what she did to us! The blood, the screaming, the photographs. We get her back.’

‘There’s a firearms team on its way down here right now. You’re not going anywhere.’

‘We get her back and we tear her apart, just like all the others.’ She stepped forwards. ‘We kill him and we put him in the incinerator.’

I grabbed a bottle of bleach from the debris on the floor. Fumbled at the lid with my aching fingers. What stupid bastard invented child-proof caps? Come on…

She grabbed me by the throat and dragged me to my feet.

Ulk— Her hand was a noose around my neck, tightening, cutting off the air, making the blood thump in my ears. I scrabbled my hands at her creased face, pulled at her fingers. They wouldn’t budge.

The bleach bottle thunked to the floor.

A door creaked.

‘We kill him and we put him in the incinerator.’ Her breath reeked of Parma Violets.

I blinked – staring over her shoulder.

Alice stood in the middle of the room, clutching that section of pipe as if she was up to bat. ‘HEY, UGLY!’

The Rat Catcher turned, eyes narrow and dark. She opened her mouth and screamed through brown teeth, spit flying in the dim light. ‘Kill them all!’

The pipe ripped through the air, battered into the side of her head. Hair and scraps of skin flew out in a spray of blood.